


These words leave my lips (but do they reach your ears?)

by Lunarlux



Series: On shot two shot, red shot blue shot [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anger, Angst, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-11
Updated: 2013-07-11
Packaged: 2017-12-19 04:33:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/879516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarlux/pseuds/Lunarlux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He could scream and shout at the top of his lungs and yet it would register to people as if he were whispering</p>
            </blockquote>





	These words leave my lips (but do they reach your ears?)

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this listening to "Dust in the WInd" by Kansas.
> 
> Un'beta'd please tell me if there's any mistakes.
> 
> This is set in season 3, and it's an internal monologue from Stiles because nobody listens to him or his ideas, and I have a feeling he's going to go crazy.

Stiles walked down the street with his hands pushed deep in his jacket pockets. The beanie he was wearing fit snuggly on his head, letting the end of his grown out hair peak out.

It was wintertime in Beacon Hills, and snow was falling as Stiles walked towards the flower shop. Death was becoming a regular thing for his life, and he hated how much his life was changing.

Stiles wanted the Alpha pack to go away, he already lost enough people in his life, and he’s not sure he can take losing another.

Nobody would listen to him. Every time he says something, it’s like nobody’s even hearing. They never stop and ask what he’s thinking, or feeling. He was right about Matt, and nobody even acknowledged that. They all thought he was some kind of joke. He could scream and shout at the top of his lungs and yet it would register to people as if he were whispering.  He was on the brink of insanity and he was going to crack sooner or later. He wondered what his father would think if he does.

Stiles pushes open the door to the small flower shop in town and takes in the heavy scent of floral. He asks for the bouquet of daisies, the ones he gets every year, pays and leaves.

Stiles walks towards the cemetery, watching his warm breath fade into the cold air. His nose is numb and his lips are dry and cracked.

When he finally reaches the person he was looking for he sits down next to the grave, clutching the flowers in his hands. Tears fall down his face as he fills his mother in on everything that’s happened, and things that probably will. _At least,_ he thinks, _there’s one person that always listens_.


End file.
